Dear Lord, and all the Saints,
My name is Ursula, and I am dying of the plague. There is no one to tend to me, as all my family have died before me, and there is no one to take my last confession. So, being learned in the art of the letters, I commit my sins to paper, in the hope that you see, Lord, that I regret them, and forgive me.
I have many sins weighing on my conscience, but the greatest is this. There was a holy statuette in our church in Laslea, and it was said to do wonders. When the plague broke out, I stole it, hoping it would save my loved ones.
But the Lord must have seen through my wickedness, and the holy figurine offered us no relief at all. My husband, sons, and daughters succumbed to the illness one after another and suffered greatly, as I now suffer.
I wish fervently to return the figurine to whence it came and cleanse my soul, for else I shall be forever separated from those I hold dear.
But it is now too late.